Like This, for Ever

Barney.’
    ‘I think I’ve got him,’ Stenning called over, hurrying them along.
    Awkwardly, as though they’d grown stiff from sitting in one position too long, the group gathered around his desk.
    ‘I’ve done a search of the CCTV footage we collected from the access roads,’ he said. ‘Just two of them, Horselydown Lane and Jamaica Road, I didn’t have time to do any more. A kid wouldn’t be able to drive a car, right, which could explain why the previous searches threw up zippo, so I did a search for bikes.’
    ‘You think he transported a body on the back of a pushbike?’ said Dana. ‘Two bodies, in the Barlow boys’ case?’
    ‘I think that might be exactly what he did, Boss. Take a look at this.’ Stenning dragged the mouse across the desk and clicked. The team saw a still picture of Horseleydown Lane, off which led the Horseleydown Steps. The steps weren’t in shot. A second still picture came into view, and this one showed a slim figure on a bicycle. The bike was dragging an enclosed baby trailer. The third shot showed a closer view of both bike and trailer.
    ‘There’s something in that trailer,’ said Gayle. ‘Could you fit two nine-year-old boys in there?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Anderson. ‘We’ve had one since Marcus was three. He and Abigail both still get in it from time to time. They’re over the weight limit, but in the park it’s safe enough.’
    In the fourth shot, the bike and trailer had disappeared from view.
    ‘Eighteen minutes later, he comes back,’ said Stenning, who was jiggling the mouse again. ‘Remember those large bins just by the steps? I reckon it would be easy enough to park the bike behind them and carry the boys one at a time down on to the beach. Here we go.’
    Dana stepped closer to the monitor as the bike and trailer came back into view. It could be just wishful thinking, but the rider seemed to be pedalling faster now, as though pulling a lighter load.
    ‘How would he get them in there?’ she asked. ‘When they’re alive, I mean. Once they’re dead it would be reasonably straightforward.’
    ‘If this is a young teenager, he’s not going to seem particularlythreatening,’ said Richmond. ‘Quite the opposite, in fact. Younger kids love hanging out with older ones. Maybe he just offered to take them for a ride.’
    ‘And if that didn’t work, he had the Vulcan pressure points to fall back on,’ suggested Anderson.
    ‘Fake blood to throw them off guard,’ said Dana. ‘Looks like he had a whole bag of tricks.’
    ‘Do we get a better look at the rider at all?’ asked Anderson.
    ‘Slightly,’ said Stenning, ‘at the next scene. Give me a second.’
    They waited.
    ‘Here we go,’ said Stenning. ‘Camera on the corner of Jamaica Road and Bevington Street.’ He flicked through still shots and the team watched the bike and trailer getting closer. As he reached the corner, the rider braked and, for the first time, looked up.
    ‘Definitely not a man,’ said Anderson.
    ‘Slim woman or teenager,’ said Richmond.
    ‘I don’t think that’s a woman,’ said Mizon. ‘Women and teenage boys just don’t move in the same way. Look at him. He’s holding his shoulders like a man. And there’s no way he’s dressed for the weather. That’s a thin jacket he’s wearing. A woman would dress properly. It’s not a woman.’
    ‘No, it’s not,’ said Dana. ‘Well done, Gayle. You too, Pete.’
    ‘Bloody good job,’ said Anderson. ‘Now we just need a friggin’ name.’
    ‘Barnaby Roberts,’ said Mizon. ‘His father’s in custody downstairs. I think we might just have been focusing on the wrong member of the family. And, much as I’m enjoying your praise, this isn’t my theory. It’s Lacey’s.’
    ‘Tell me about Barney,’ said Evi.
    Lacey took a deep breath, told herself to concentrate. This wasn’t the time for running around, this was thinking time. ‘He lives with a largely absent father whom he seems to fear,’ she said. ‘His mother committed suicide when he was four and he found the body. But then he wiped the memory from his mind and convinced himself not only that she was still alive but that he could find her by advertising in local papers.’
    ‘Poor kid,’ said Evi.
    A poor kid who might, at this moment, be slitting the throat of another child. Lacey looked up. In the light of the solar lamps, the trees and shrubs in her garden were glowing vivid shades of green, as though the downpour had washed away all